


Strands of a Braid

by athos



Series: Strands of a Braid [1]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: (has that tag been used anywhere else?), Everyone hates the Archon, F/M, Fluff, For Me, Friends to Lovers, Get Together, Hair Braiding, Hair Loss, Jaal POV, Jaal is a troll, Jaal is missing crucial information about humans, Jaal is the most emotionally mature on the Tempest, Jaal wants to learn ALL THE THINGS, Jaal's enormous family, More specific spoiler warnings in author notes, Remnant are pushy bastards, SAM looks out for Ryder, Spoilers for Meridian, Sweetness and Fluff, The Tempest Info Board, Vetra has some strange but not entirely incorrect ideas about humans, aliens are weird, at least, author plays fast-and-loose with human medical stuff for plot reasons, banter on the Tempest, bonding through grooming, hair braiding means you're on a first-name basis, happy ever after, heirloom combs, implied pre-Avitus Rix/Scott Ryder, remembered trauma of gum stuck in hair, self-harm (unconscious), siblings making fun of each other's romances is a multi-universal constant, some hurt-comfort but mostly comfort, spoilers for Archon stuff, spoilers for Jaal's loyalty quest, spoilers for game ending, temporary hair loss, the gang's all here, trauma responses, what even is hair?, where they apply
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-02-28 01:31:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13260795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athos/pseuds/athos
Summary: Scenes between Sara Ryder and Jaal, each having to do with a peculiar physical feature that humans have. Goes throughout Jaal's time on the Tempest. Includes spoilers for Jaal's loyalty missions and the game ending.This all started when I was combing my hair while reading a Jaal/Ryder fic, and I began thinking about what hair would look like to someone who had never seen it before.





	1. Chapter 1

 

A small human named “Suuvee” had given him a tour of the ship and invited him to make himself at home, and to ask if he had any questions.

_If_ he had any questions, ha! He had hundreds. But he would see what he could observe for himself, first. He knew somewhat about the Milky Way species, what he’d heard from Resistance members in Kadara, and had seen pictures, of course, and seen them from afar. This was his first time seeing any up close, and at length. The humans in particular seemed smaller out of their armor.

The moment he offered to accompany the Pathfinder to Voeld or Havarl, he’d decided to trust them--to an extent. That meant that once his initial threat-assessment was completed, he could take in finer details about the strange ship and crew. He walked through the Tempest, following the footsteps his tour had taken, observing who was where, from the biobay to the engine room, down a ladder to the cargo bay where their land vehicle was elevated for maintenance (troublesome maintenance if the human-sounding swearing was any indication), past the medical bay and into the crew quarters, out to the hallway next to--

The doors to the pathfinder’s quarters were open. Jaal looked behind him, seeing that the bathroom doors were still open, but all the other doors had closed once he was out of proximity. Would the Pathfinder’s rooms open to anyone?  Jaal silently walked halfway down the hallway and while the bathroom doors closed, the Pathfinders’ remained open. Retracing his steps, Jaal stopped in the doorway of the galley and spotted Ryder. Reasoning that if the doors were open, she would not mind him watching, he leaned against the doorway.

Ryder was sitting on the floor, the bends of her strange legs out to either side. Her back was to him, and with her hands she was doing...something to the different, dark texture atop her head. Her too-many fingered hands (their fingers are so spindly--how do they not constantly break? What strength could possibly be in them?) were twisting something, or pulling something out, a second, a third, tucking them into her hand and--

Jaal recoiled, but managed not to gasp. The dark on her head had _grown_ , unrolling like the the tendril of a fern of his homeworld at the first rays of-- _’No,’_ Jaal sternly reminded himself. ‘ _They are alien, and unknown. Do not permit yourself to romanticise them. They are not of Helius._ ’

But what _was_ it? Surely not a weapon.

Almost all of the pictures and vids he’d seen of humans were of them wearing helmets, but he’d noticed many seemed to have another topping on their head, under their helmets. Lee-yam had startled some sparks out of him (which were thankfully unnoticed) when he yanked off his helmet and something had poofed up in its place. The human noticed his attention, chuckled, and offered to let him touch it. Jaal’s astonishment must have been obvious, because he’d shrugged and said, “Too soon, then? Alright.”  Suuvee--Soovee? Jaal checked the crew manifest. Suvi, and Liam. So few characters for the length of sounds! Suvi had head color like Aya’s lava and it curved away from her head and moved like floating embers, and he’d wondered if it was hot to the touch. Cora had color that changed down the length of it, and apparently it was malleable, as she tucked it behind her protruding head-flaps.

The other Meelk--Milky Way aliens did not change their color or texture under their helmets. The blue one who asked about angaran medical information had swept-back...shapes, most similar to angara, only the conical shapes were narrower and did not join their torso. The spikey one was, well… spikey. The thin pilot was speckled like many angara, but so strangely angular!

At least the spikey and speckled ones had legs that folded correctly.

Jaal refocused on Ryder, who was manipulating her head topping and seemed to be coaxing it out of its lumpy, long shape. Instead of one, now she had three, and she took the spread fingers of her hand and--skutting stars! It wasn’t one or three appendages, it was hundreds! Thousands that she ran her fingers through.

Ryder made a sound that, had it come from an angara, Jaal would have known was contentment. It was not a pain-sound; Liam had stumbled over something in the cargo bay and had yipped like a pup touching a hot pan. It seemed the Milky Way aliens laughed like the Angara did, and if he closed his eyes, he could imagine that the sardonic observations the spikey one made came out of his own sister’s cynical mouth. It was clear in his first several hours with the aliens that the reports were correct--they were far less emotionally demonstrative than Angara--but so far, the emotions were expressed in recognizable ways.

Jaal saw that Ryder had a small, brown implement in her hand and was passing it over-- no, she was passing it _through_ her...well, it obviously wasn’t a tail or a prehensile appendage, but he didn’t know what to call it. Jaal frowned. He’d never seen anything like it. Whose body changed that much? Perhaps it was painful for the thing to be twisted up, and releasing it felt good, but why, then, did Ryder coil it up in the first place? She’d picked up a section of it, parted it from the whole as if it were not a single thing, and was running the brown object through it. It stopped mid-way, and Jaal heard a brief hiss. A pain-noise. Why was Ryder hurting herself? Or was he watching grooming behavior more akin to moisturizing head-flaps, and she’d run into a dry and chafed spot? A few moments picking at the spot with the brown object, which Jaal saw had deep and narrow serrations on one side, and Ryder was able to pass the object through all the way.

Why did Ryder have a long...thing, when the other humans had short head-tops? Did other humans do this grooming as well? Was it a sign of youth, or of her position of pathfinder? Did they cut it off as a test of courage to withstand pain? Did the color mean something, or did humans just have different colored head-tops just as Angara had differently colored and patterned skin?

While he wondered, Ryder continued to sweep the serrated object through it from the top of her head down to its end. It looked sleek and shiny, and was so long that it almost brushed the floor she sat on. When it fell from her hand, it looked like sheer, thin fabric draping over her shoulders, or like a strange, dark waterfall. He wanted to touch it.

Jaal was so focused on Ryder that he didn’t notice the heavy footfalls approaching before a deep and gravelly voice said, “It’s called ‘hair’, Angara. Only humans have it.”

Jaal whirled around and into the galley. His hands went to his rifle before he remembered he’d removed it, and the alien in front of him (bony plates, stocky body, vertical pupils- Krogan, do not engage in close combat) followed him in and let the doors close behind them. “Krogan,” Jaal said cautiously.

“Yep. Name’s Drack. Listen, the Pathfinder’s got a literal open-door policy unless she’s sleeping or doing secret Pathfinder-y stuff, some squishy thing about being a ‘family’ and ‘open communication’,” Drack grumbled, opening cabinets and rifling through them. “I suggested we all just butt heads and get drunk, but the salarian about fainted.”

“Salarian...our pilot, the speckled, narrow one,” Jaal mused, hoping he was correct.

“Yeah. Kallo. Anyways, Pathfinder wants her crew, including you, now, to feel comfortable walking in to chat. But watching her like a sniper from a perch in the hallway with a frown on your face is weird, so knock it off.”

Jaal felt a zing of contrition, but nodded. Drack peered at him and continued, “Skulking and staring makes you seem shifty. Not as shifty as a Salarian or Turian, mind you,”  he raised his voice as the galley doors opened again and the spikey Turian entered.

“You talking shit, old man,” it--she?--said in a dual-toned voice. She looked at Jaal. “Hi, I’m Vetra Nyx. Glad to have you on board.”

Jaal nodded. “Jaal Ama Darav, pleased to be here.”

“Jaal here was oogling the Pathfinder’s hair,” Drack said.

“Ooh, yes. I remember the first time I touched a human’s hair.”

Jaal spoke, “But what _is_ it? Why is Ryder’s longer? Do all humans have them? What is it for? Why only humans?” The last question he directed at Drack.

“Heh heh, yeah, that must’ve looked weird. All smooth, reasonable helmet and then wham! Long dangly thing just swinging in the wind. Ha!” Drack laughed as the door opened again, and a strange human stood in the doorway. “Wait ‘til you see your first naked human male! Stupidest damned thing you’ve ever seen!”

The human’s face made a funny shape, and he said, “Nevermind, I don’t need coffee this much.” He turned around and left.

Jaal was becoming confused, but amidst Drack’s booming laughter Vetra clarified. “Human hair is a keratin protein that grows from their bodies. It doesn’t have any musculature, bones, blood flow or nerves, but where the individual hair attaches to the skin there is sensation, lots or little depending on the place and the human, so if you grab a human’s hair and yank, it’ll hurt, but if you’re gentler and comb it, it feels really relaxing. Some humans comb and play with each other’s hair as a courtship or friendly bonding ritual. A human’s most prominent hair is on top of their head, but most have hair elsewhere, too. They apparently have tiny, transparent hair covering their entire bodies that you can only see in certain kinds of light. The darker body hair they groom or remove as they prefer.”

“What is its purpose?” Jaal asked.

Vetra looked at Drack. “Isn’t it mostly an evolutionary throw-back at this point? It used to be for warmth, but now the eyebrows," she looked at Jaal and pointed to her visor, “are used a lot in communication, and the rest of hair seems to be just vanity, or traditional.”

Drack added, “I heard having a hairy chest meant a human could hold their liquor, but I’ve met human women with bare chests who could out-drink their hairier males.”

Vetra nodded. “Yeah, vanity, tradition, personal expression.”

Drack mused, “Seems like it would get in the way. Most humans cut theirs short--no, it doesn’t hurt,” he reminded Jaal, who had flinched. “No nerves, remember? And it grows back in time. Most have it short because it’s easier to fit under a helmet and simpler to take care of. Don’t they wash it and make it smell funny, Vetra?”

“Yes. I think I heard once that centuries ago, hair was some big status symbol for humans, and they put stuff in it to make it hold strange shapes, and if someone lost a race or was deposed as leader, they’d cut off their hair and hang it on a wall or something.”

Jaal cleared his throat. “So, the serrated object in Ryder’s hand…”

Vetra’s upper jaw mandibles widened. Perhaps this was a smile? “Yeah, she brought her mother’s comb to Andromeda. Some kind of heirloom, this really old, seasoned wood. If humans don’t comb their hair regularly, especially the long hair, it gets tangled and messy.” Vetra sighed wistfully. “I wonder if Ryder’d let me comb her hair someday.”

“Mm, yes, but why do only humans have hair?” Jaal asked.

Drack snorted. “Same reason as they only have one heart, no natural armor, lose their vision as they age, pass out after only losing half their blood volume, and take forever to have babies: evolution went weird on their planet.”

Drack and Vetra chatted while Jaal reviewed this new information. Hair. Part of the human body, grown from them, but severable, and regeneratable. A way humans express individuality, like Angaran facial paint and piercings. Jaal touched the rings through his left facial ridge. The Pathfinder Ryder kept hers long, which could be inconvenient, but she did so anyways? Why? Was combing long hair more pleasurable and self-soothing than combing short hair? Hmm.

He had a lot to learn.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate conversation direction:
> 
> “Mm, yes, but why do only humans have hair?” Jaal asked.
> 
> Drack snorted. "Because each strand of hair moves independently and takes forever to animate. Look at all of this!" He waved his armored hands around. "Animators had to make this whole galaxy and everything in it. None of the rest of us have anything as unmanageable as hair because it makes us much easier to populate and animate. Ever noticed each species is basically uniform in height? Copy/Paste models. No physical diversity in height or width or basic shape, just color. Even the humans only have twenty or so hairstyles, unless someone plays on PC and mods the shit outta the base game." He slurped at whatever was in his cup.
> 
> Jaal considered. "If this hair is so difficult to animate, then why to humans have any at all?"
> 
> "Because real humans have hair and fuss about it, and they're the ones buying the game. Trust me, if this whole shtick was marketed by krogans, for krogans," he waves his hand to encompass Vetra, Jaal, the room, the Tempest, "you'd all'd be krogan-shaped."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaal touches human hair for the first time and learns what gum is, and that it is not something one wants in their hair. Liam learns he should be more careful about his throw-away comments, because apparently Jaal has a long memory.

 

 

Some days later, Jaal approached Liam outside the tech lab. “What’s up, big guy?”

 

“Liam. When I first boarded, you offered to let me touch your hair. I find myself curious if the offer is still on.”

 

“If the offer is still open, yeah! I’ve been helping Gil with the Nomad, so it might be a bit grungy.” Liam leaned towards him, and Jaal bravely took off a glove and extended his hand.

 

It was...springy. He patted it a few times, and withdrew his hand.

 

“That’s it?” Liam asked. He grasped at it and tugged, then ran his fingers through his hair. He appeared to get caught on something, and swore. Jaal noticed Cora approach the research station and nodded a greeting at her.

 

“I did not know you could be so rough with it,” Jaal said, turning back to Liam.

 

“Yeah, some people are really into it. In certain situations. The hair doesn’t feel anything, but our scalp where each hair attaches does--ow! Shit, this isn’t engine grease.”

 

“Can I offer you any assistance?”

 

“Oh, would you? I can’t even see what it is, shit! Watch yourself, there’s a sharp bit.”

 

Jaal removed his other glove and peered over Liam’s head. “You will tell me if I hurt you?”

 

“Yeah, man, I promise. You’d have to really yank though. Find what’s in there and carefully separate each strand of hair from it. Ugh, I hope it isn’t sticky.”

 

“What would happen if it were sticky?” Jaal asked, gingerly sifting--no, _combing_ through Liam’s dark hair and spotting something blue and foreign.

 

“If it were sticky, we might have to cut it out. Oh, man," Liam groaned, "I remember when I was a kid, and my little sister put gum in my hair-- gum is this thing we chew sometimes, tastes good, but sticks to anything once it’s out of your mouth. Anyways, she put it in my hair, and we tried olive oil and machine oil, but _nothing_ would get the gum out. Had to cut out a chunk of my hair; I was so upset. Must’ve moped for a week.”

 

Behind them, Cora made a short hissing sound. They both looked at her, Liam with curiosity and Jaal with concern. Had she hurt herself? “I got gum in my hair once. I didn’t have a sibling to blame it on. I blew a really,  _really_ big bubble," she gestured until her hands were perhaps a foot apart, "and it popped around my head.”

 

Liam burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you’re joking! Did anyone get a picture? How’d you get it out? Or was that kid-Cora’s first side-cut?”

 

“If anyone got a picture, I never saw it. I used a whole can of peanut butter getting it all out. Smelled like peanuts for a week.” Cora’s tone was rueful, and she had a small smile on her face.

 

Jaal tilted his head at her. “Cora, you made a sound earlier.”

 

Liam said unhelpfully, “Commiseration.”

 

“Oh, the…” she made the sound again, air drawn in through her teeth. “I was remembering the discomfort of having a similar problem, so I made that noise to tell Liam I can sympathize.”

 

Jaal nodded in understanding. “I see.”

 

“Damn, now I want peanut butter,” Liam muttered as Jaal went back to his work.

 

“Maybe Vetra can hook you up. Don’t forget, though, Salarians are sensitive to it.”

 

“Right, no sharing PB&Js with Kallo.”

 

Jaal frowned at the blue oval studded with hooks caught in Liam’s hair. “It appears to be a burr from the plants on Eos. I believe I can remove it. If hair does not hurt when it is cut, Liam, why were you upset?”

 

“Oh thank fuck for that. Must have fallen from the undercarriage and gotten ground in somehow. I was upset because I had this great afro, right? All round and symmetrical and perfect? And then there was a shaved chunk right bang in the middle. Totally ruined my look,” Liam explained.

 

“Your ‘look’?” Cora repeated sceptically. “How old were you?”

 

“Eight, and yes. I had _style_ , I’ll have you know.”

 

“Ah, yes. I had heard that a purpose of hair was personal expression or vanity. I am not hurting you?” Jaal asked after a harder pull. He now saw the benefit of their smaller and more numerous fingers-- this would doubtless be an easier task with smaller fingers.

 

“Promised I’d tell you, didn’t I? I can feel what you’re doing, like, little tugs and the hair moving around, but you’re very gentle. More gentle than my big sis was with that stupid gum.”

 

Jaal worked for a few minutes in silence, coaxing the burr free. With a final pull, it was out. “I am finished,” he announced. “What do you want to do with this?” He held up the small, light burr.

 

“We should scan it in, see if we know what plant it belongs to, for the database," Cora said.

 

Liam nodded his agreement. "Then we can chuck it out. Or I’ll hide it in PeeBee’s shoe if she steals my coffee again.” He grinned at Jaal, a smile that was meant to be shared, so Jaal smiled back. “So, curiosity about my hair satisfied?  It’s good that you asked, by the way. I mean, always ask permission before touching someone, but that goes for hair, too.”

 

“I am more than satisfied at having felt it,” Jaal said.

 

“What’s it feel like?”

 

Jaal raised his eyebrow ridges. “I have nothing to which to compare it. It was springy. Not as soft as skin, and not as coarse as cloth. Do all humans have different hair color and texture?”

 

“Yeah, our hair type depends on genetics and where our families lived, way way back. Humans sometimes dye their hair colors, too. Take Cora--” he nodded at her. “No way that ombre’s natural. Looks good on her, though.”

 

“Damn right, Costa!” she agreed.

 

“I see. I have another question.”

 

“Go for it!”

 

“In what situations would one be ‘into’ someone being rough with their hair?” he asked.

 

Liam looked nonplussed, and Cora snickered.  Liam turned to her and asked, “Wanna help me out here?”

 

She shook her head, still smirking. “Nope, Costa. This is all on you.” She left them, patting Liam on the shoulder and nodding at Jaal.

 

Liam sighed. “Ok, well, some people like having their hair pulled when they’re having sex, but humans don’t talk openly about sex much.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“It’s just...more personal than we like to share with people we aren’t having sex with.”

 

Jaal hmm-ed, and asked, “Yes, but how do you know? And how rough is too rough? Is there a direction one should pull?”

 

“Oh my god.” Liam leaned over the console and buried his face in his hands.

 

Jaal continued seriously, “Humans, I have read, have hair elsewhere on their bodies; can that be pulled during sex as well?”

 

“Please forget I said anything.” Liam’s voice was muffled from his hands.

 

"Is that the purpose of pubic hair? I must admit, your genitals seems like a strange place to have hair. Though not as strange as your... hmm, there was a word. Under where your arms meet your torsos."

 

"Armpits." Jaal couldn't understand Liam very well, but recognized the word.

 

"Armpits! Yes. But 'anyways'," he said, experimenting with the linking word he'd heard PeeBee use, "is hair-pulling an important part in human copulation?”

 

Liam groaned.

 

“Liam,” Jaal said reproachfully. “This is very important cross-cultural information.”

 

"Yeah, but..."

 

"You  _promised,"_ Jaal said, his voice deep and stern with admonishment, "to freely exchange cultural information about your species. To avoid misunderstandings that could lead to war between our peoples."

 

“I know, I--” Liam stopped, and looked up at Jaal. His eyebrows were disarrayed. “You’re messing with me.”

 

Jaal blinked innocently. “‘Messing with’?”

 

“Leading me on. Having a laugh. Asking things you know will discomfit me for the pleasure you get in seeing me slightly uncomfortable.”

 

“Aah,” Jaal said. After a thoughtful pause, he smiled broadly. “Yes, I am messing with you.”

 

Liam laughed. “You dick.”

 

Jaal tilted his head inquisitively, but before he could say anything Liam interjected, “No, no, I _know_ we went over casual insults including genital slang. You know what ‘dick’ means. You dick.”

 

Jaal laughed loudly and clasped Liam’s shoulder to depart. “Stay strong and clear, Liam!”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm conscious of being a white person describing a POC's hair. If I've done anything thoughtless, please let me know so I can fix it.
> 
> Hand up, everyone who's gotten gum in their hair. *raises hand*


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the author thinks really hard about how, exactly, her hair turns from unruly tangles into a french braid.

 

Jaal’s heart had almost stopped when the Breaker--the last one and swiftly dispatched--shoved Ryder off a pillar, but fortunately she landed safely in water. Jaal extended a hand to help her up the steep bank, but she waved him off with one hand and undid her helmet with the other.

 

“Jaal, you warned us about the flora in Havarl when we first got here; is there anything concerning about the water?” she asked, shaking water off her helmet.

 

Jaal looked around for drall nests and found none. “No; unlike Kadara, the water here has always been safe.”

 

“That’s a relie--shit!” she exclaimed when she lost her footing and fell back into the lake. It took her only a moment to regain her feet in the waist-high water and ruefully pour water out of her helmet.

 

“Safe, except to your dignity, it seems,” Jaal observed.

 

Liam snickered behind them. “Better you than me, Pathfinder.”

 

She accepted Jaal’s hand this time, and stuck out her tongue at Liam. It was a gesture Jaal found adorable, but he hadn’t yet calculated exactly what provoked it, and thus had not yet been the recipient himself. Once on flat ground, she hooked her still-dripping helmet to her belt and asked Liam, “You got the ancient Rem-tech? Good. Let’s go back to the Tempest.”

 

Liam led and Jaal brought up the rear, which let him see Ryder’s hair hanging down her back and looking rather bedraggled. “Ryder, your hair… You usually have it pinned; do we need to retrieve anything?”

 

She reached her hand back to feel, and laughed. “You’re very observant,” she said, “but it feels like...two, three, yes, there’s four,” she announced, feeling up and down the length. “See”? She showed him the dripping rope of her hair, and he saw four dark, two-pronged pins sticking out of the braid. “The pins are all accounted for; they just detached from the rest of my hair with my second dunking.”

 

“I see,” said Jaal. “What do you call it, when your hair is...like that?” he gestured.

 

Ryder raised an eyebrow. “Wet?”

 

Chuckling, Jaal shook his head. “No, bound up instead of many-stranded, like when you comb it.”

 

“Oh. This is a braid. It’s pretty, keeps the hair organized, and I can twist it up and pin it to fit under my helmet.”

 

“How do you make it?”

 

“How? I just… braid it?” she said, scratching at her scalp. “Wow, I never really thought of it before. My mom did it for me when I was a kid, and I practiced on her hair and learned to do it myself, and now, every morning, it just...happens. I don’t even think about how I do it.”

 

They walked past the research station in companionable silence.

 

“I would like to learn this ‘braiding’,” Jaal announced as they boarded the Tempest.

 

Both Liam and Ryder stopped and looked at him, their eyebrows raised in apparent surprise.

 

“That is...actually not surprising at all,” decided Liam.

 

Ryder smiled. “Ok, sure. Let me shower, and meet me in my quarters in 15 minutes?”

 

Jaal agreed and went to the tech lab to change from his armor and clean his rifle. At the appointed time he went to the lower level and SAM admitted him into Ryder’s spacious quarters.

 

“Jaal!” Ryder greeted him. She was wearing the softer, casual clothes she wore around the Tempest which left her lower arms exposed, and was squeezing a towel around her hair. “The best time to braid hair is when it’s still a bit damp, so I thought you could sit on the couch and I’ll sit on the floor between your legs. I mean,” she looked at him, suddenly appearing concerned in the way she did when she was suddenly afraid of over-stepping, “we could do it standing, because you’re taller, but if you want to practice a while, maybe you’d rather sit?”

 

“I suspect sitting would be more comfortable for you, as well,” Jaal said. “Is this the way your mother braided your hair?”

 

She smiled. “Yeah. I always think of her when I’m doing my hair.” She removed the towel, felt her hair, and tossed the towel into the corner. Her hair was darker with the damp, and fell in irregular ropes over her shoulder. She combed through it with her fingers as she continued, “I’ll get out the big tangles, and then show you how to use a comb, and then we’ll tackle braiding!”

 

Jaal seated himself in the middle of her couch and watched her toss a pillow between his feet. She approached him holding the brown object he’d noticed her use the first day he was on the Tempest.

 

“This comb is very special to me,” she said. “My mother’s grandmother apprenticed to a traditional woodworker in Japan, and made this comb from a tree called boxwood. It was prized for carving because it’s very dense and takes fine detail well, but it’s also special because it grows so slowly, it can only be harvested every thirty years--that’s how long it takes for a boxwood tree to grow enough to have enough material to carve. And then the wood must age for at least ten years before you can carve it.” She stroked the wood reverently. “My great-grandmother Noriko made three combs, including this one, under Masayuki-san’s guidance. She used this one, my grandmother Erika used it, my mom Ellen used it, and she gave it to me before she died. Mom told me that when it was made, the wood was a much lighter color, but through generations of use, the oils in our skin and hair has darkened the wood. See?” She extended the comb to him and he took it carefully.

 

It was very lightweight, but he could feel the density of the wood and saw that the tips of the teeth were darker than the rest of the comb. “You honor me,” he said, raising his eyes to meet hers. Her cheeks pinkened. “Thank you.”

 

She shrugged quickly and said, “Well, synthetic combs only make my hair staticky.” With no further explanation, she turned and quickly sat his feet, positioning the pillow under herself, but made to rise again. “Wait, I should get the towel in case I drip on you--”

 

He caught her arm and said, “Ryder, _relax_. I will not be harmed by a bit of damp.”

 

“Right,” she said. She settled herself with her back resting against the couch and her shoulders bracketed by his legs. “Is this ok?” she asked.

 

“I am quite pleased. And you?”

 

“Yes. So, when you’re combing someone’s hair, don’t start from the scalp, because whatever tangles get caught in the teeth of the comb--the little spikey bits-- will just be pulled down the rest of the hair, and it’ll hurt and make bigger tangles. Instead, pick it up and start by combing through the first few inches.”

 

Jaal gathered her hair in his hands, holding it for a moment. It was heavy and cool. He took the comb in his left hand and tried to do what Ryder had, but only ran the comb over the strands, not through them. He ‘hmm’ed and tried again, pushing the teeth of the comb through the ends of her hair, and gingerly drew it down. There was no resistance, and he grinned proudly before remembering she couldn’t see him.

 

“I have never done...we have nothing like this,” Jaal said. Ryder turned her head slightly, and he could see the corner of her smile. “How many times do I comb this section?”

 

“Well, once all the tangles are out of the bottom, start combing up a few inches higher and all the way down. When that much is all combed, go higher and so on until you’re combing everything,” Ryder instructed.

 

Jaal encountered only three tangles, and Ryder guided him through gently unknotting them. He noticed differences as her hair dried--previously, the teeth of the comb left impressions between the strands that left as the water in her hair evaporated. He noticed that some of her hair, some strands around the edge of her forehead and above her ears, was shorter and curled, while the longer remainder fell straight down. After several passes with the comb, he noticed a few thin strands caught in the teeth that had detached from her head. He frowned and asked, “I-- some came out. Have I done something wrong?”

 

She patted his leg reassuringly. “No, we shed our hair regularly. It’s more noticeable with long hair, but it’s not your fault. We shed our skin cells, too. It’ll grow back. As long as it’s not coming out in clumps, falling out faster than it can grow back, it’s fine.”

 

He found one end of a strand, felt his way to the other, and held the strand of hair between his spread arms before him. He pulled slightly and felt some elasticity. He took it and the other two strands of loose hair, lay them carefully beside him on the couch, and resumed combing.

 

A few relaxing minutes later, “I seem to have combed all of it,” Jaal said.

 

“Ok! Now I teach you how to braid.” Ryder straightened up between his feet. She turned around, resting her hand on his leg. “You’re still enjoying yourself?”

 

Jaal smiled. “Yes! Very much so. Vetra told me that combing hair is a human bonding activity and I find combing your hair fascinating and… soothing for me, as well, Ryder.”

 

She shifted on the pillow and leaned back against the couch again. “Then by all means, continue, but if you’re going to keep playing with my hair, you have to call me Sara,” she insisted. “And you can run the teeth of the comb over my scalp when you’re gathering more hair; that feels really good. Okay, braiding: divide the hair into three equal sections.”

 

“From the top?”

 

“I usually do it horizontally.”

 

Jaal lay the left third of Sara’s hair over his left thigh, the right third over his right thigh and held the middle in his hands. “Now what?”

 

“Take the right-most third and lay it over the middle one, and move the middle one under it to the right.”

 

Jaal did so. “Done, Sara. Now what?”

 

“Now take the left-most strand and lay it over the strand that’s in the middle now.”

 

“And move the middle strand to the left? It is already laying that direction.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Jaal complied, and tilted his head critically. It didn’t look very much like Sara’s normal hair.

 

She continued, “And you continue the pattern: take the right strand and lay it over the middle, then the left strand and lay it over the middle one, outer right over middle, outer left over middle, and so on.”

 

Frowning with concentration, Jaal put the outer strand over the middle, the other outer over the middle--no that was the middle last round, hmm. “I must begin again,” he declared, undoing the work.

 

“Want me to demonstrate?” she offered.

 

“No! No. I will learn. Thirds,” he said, dividing her hair, “then outer right over middle, and the middle becomes the right. Then left over middle, and middle becomes left…” he matched his words with his actions. “And right over middle, and leeefffttt….over middle, and right…”

 

Ryder lifted her hand to touch, and Jaal brushed it away. “I am not finished!”

 

“Okay, okay! I just wanted to feel. You can end the braid when you have a few inches of hair left. Then, either you can take it out and begin again, or we can tie it off.”

 

Jaal braided the rest of her hair, and looked critically at it. He held the end in his hand and leaned it over Sara’s shoulder. “It looks wobblier than yours.”

 

She turned her head. “That’s ok, it’s just loose. It’s definitely a braid, though!” She grinned at him. “Good job!”

 

“Thank you! May I practice more?”

 

“Yes, please. Though if you insist on being so gentle, I might fall asleep,” she said, and he knew she was teasing because of the wink she tossed over her shoulder. “Try braiding more tightly, once you get the rhythm down.”

 

For many minutes, Jaal braided Sara’s hair and combed it out, discovering the exact amount of pressure to use when combing against her scalp to make her sigh contentedly and relax further against him. He got better at braiding as well-- he re-divided Sara’s hair into proper thirds and became adept enough with the pattern to braid more tightly.

 

No wonder humans found this so interesting--this was almost as fun as calibrating his rifle! It required dexterity and attention and unlike calibrating his rifle this was...not frivolous, but peaceful. Yes, it was entirely peaceful--regular actions repeating to make a pleasing shape, pleasing to the eye, pleasing to the touch, and pleasant time spent with Sara. And if he made a mistake, it was easily remedied, and combing out an error was also pleasant.

 

How rewarding to spend time making something beautiful and on which his life would not depend.

 

“Can you braid with more than three parts?” he asked suddenly.

 

Sara straightened suddenly-- he hadn't realized that she had rested her head on his thigh until she moved it. He missed the contact immediately. “You can make a braid with as many strands as you can manage,” she replied. “The most I can manage is five. And the geometry of a braid with even-numbers of strands is different than one with an odd-number of strands.”

 

Jaal put her hair down, and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Sara, thank you.”

 

She turned. “What for?”

 

“For teaching me. For sharing this time with me. For being...you.”

 

She regarded him with wide eyes, and slowly a smile curved her mouth. “Anytime, Jaal.”

 

He beamed at her and raised up her hair again. “Now I will try with four strands. After I comb this smooth.” When she turned around, he thought that she leaned into his leg. He watched her carefully as he combed her glossy hair, over and over, and felt his bioelectricity thrum with satisfaction when she put her head back to rest on his thigh.

 

He didn’t pay attention to how long he struggled with a four-part braid before giving up and making three smaller braids, which he then braided together. Even though they were slowly unravelling, relaxing from the tight weave at the top to free hair at the bottom, he liked the result.

 

He leaned forward to show Sara, and saw her eyes closed in sleep. He leaned back, unsure.

 

“SAM,” Jaal whispered.

 

“Yes, Jaal?” the AI quietly replied.

 

“She has fallen asleep. What do I do now?”

 

“You may awaken her to leave, or you may carry her to the bed, or you may remain as you are. I would prefer she remain asleep for at least an hour, but she would not want to keep you here against your will.”

 

Jaal frowned. “Time spent with a friend is a gift, always to be treasured,” he said. “If I remain here, do you think she would mind if I continued ‘playing’ with her hair?”

 

SAM paused. “No, I do not believe that she would mind. In fact, the same beneficial endorphins released with this activity will still be created while she sleeps.”

 

Jaal carefully unraveled the braids he made. “Then I will remain, and practice, and let her rest.”

 

“Thank you, Jaal.”

 

For several minutes the only sounds in the room were Sara’s even breathing and the hush of Jaal brushing her hair. Jaal was enchanted with how the light reflected off of it, the subtly shifting shades and shine. When he held the mass of it in his hand, it warmed to his touch. He carefully lay the few strands of hair that came away with the comb next to him, and wondered what he could make with the hair for Ryder. Was he good enough to braid so few strands? Or perhaps a gift made out of hair would be strange to a human? He would ask Cora. Leaning closer to her, he sniffed delicately. Her hair smelled...good. Like comfort and uplifting warmth. This closely, he could see thinner, white hairs among the darker ones.They were beautiful. She was beautiful.

 

SAM spoke again, still quietly, “Additionally, I would like to thank you for spending this time with Sara. It is an intimacy that she does not often allow herself, and she will benefit greatly from it.”

 

Jaal frowned again. “Why does she deny herself?”

 

“I believe she feels asking for something so indulgent could conflict with perception of her authority as Pathfinder, as well as a general reluctance to ask for comfort and reassurance herself, when she can instead provide it to others.”

 

“Mmm.” Jaal immediately thought of Evfra, and shook his head. “I enjoyed this very much, and would like to do it again. How do I convince her of that?”

 

“Simply say so. Perhaps she will believe you.”

 

“Thank you, SAM.”

 

“You are welcome, Jaal.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, you're not supposed to use tokigushi on wet hair, but I haven't noticed anything amiss after years of using mine on damp hair. I suspect regular soaking in camellia oil also helps.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place right after the Main Quest "Hunting the Archon" and includes spoilers for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, spoilers for "Hunting the Archon".
> 
> Additionally, this chapter contains understandable trauma responses. Please read the end notes for important information about Mental Health First Aid.

 

It was strange, Jaal reflected on the Tempest, how people reacted in moments of unexpected crisis. He remembered his surge of fury, impotent as it was in the immobilization field, when the Archon had carelessly grabbed Sara’s hair and used it to move her head left and right, peering at her like a potentially interesting specimen instead of a vibrant, beautiful _person._

 

And the next abrupt surprise and revelation: SAM’s control over Sara’s body included the ability to stop and--hopefully--restart her heart. Of course such a dramatic course of action was the only way she could have escaped. And of course she decided to go for it, because what else was there to do? But what did one say in that situation, when one’s leader and friend was literally about to die and maybe come back? Jaal remembered with chagrin his first impulse: to say, ‘It has been a pleasure’. It has been a pleasure? What the skutting stars was wrong with him? Fortunately Vetra had possessed greater presence of mind, and her, “You’re gonna be fine” prompted what he _actually_ said, a much more appropriate, “Ryder...Good luck.”  Still, watching her drop like a discarded doll to the dark floor and listening to that skutting AI narrate his initial failures to revive her was _agony_. He remembered wishing SAM had a body so he could shake it, but SAM’s body was Sara’s body, and he wanted nothing more than to shield her body from any more harm.

 

He felt strangely detached. He thought perhaps he should feel elation at their victory over the Archon, feel glad to have found the fourth Milky Way arc and saved the salarians, feel grief at those they could not save, feel relief that they made it out alive…

 

What he focused on instead was his remembered horror at the exalted krogan monstrosity, remembered fury at the Archon for demonstrating yet again his disdain for everyone ‘beneath’ him, and remembered compassion for the agonized conflict on Sara’s face when she had seconds to choose between saving the salarian Pathfinder or Drack’s krogan scouts.

 

He took a deep breath, silently acknowledging his fears and reminding himself that ‘should’ didn’t matter, and that he would feel what he would feel. His preoccupation with the memories that terrified, angered, and cut at him the most didn’t diminish their victory.

 

All feelings in their time.

 

Once the Tempest and arc had gone to FTL toward the Nexus and after placating Lexi with a brief exam, Sara had muttered, “I need a shower,” and asked Vetra to catch everyone else up. Jaal also needed a shower, to wash away the contempt and careless brutality that clung to him in a greasy layer every time he entered a kett vessel or facility, but he decided to give Sara privacy and stay to assist Vetra.

 

He tuned in to the end of Vetra’s report to the rest of the crew. Kallo bent his narrow body over the table, head in his hands, and Suvi patted his back and whispered to him. Lexi looked aghast, still, ever since Vetra reported what SAM had done. Cora, Gil, and Peebee had listened in silence and remained silent, until Gil shook his head and left. Peebee soon followed. Liam was the only one who had interrupted Vetra with questions, and now he sat heavily down and shook his head. Cora sat beside him and swore. Drack still leaned on the table, watching Vetra with his green eyes. He’d growled when Vetra and Jaal described the exalted krogan, but said nothing more.

 

“Any questions?” Vetra asked those who remained. Getting no response, she turned to Drack. “Listen, old man. Sara saved your scouts, and she’s at peace with that decision. But when she decided to save your scouts, she also decided to sacrifice the only remaining Pathfinder who’d actually gone through all the training, the last one who knew what they were doing. The only intended, fully-trained Pathfinder left. Regardless of how you feel about salarians, you need to honor what Sara gave up.”

 

Drack nodded, but Jaal couldn’t decipher his expression. Vetra sighed and turned to him. “You ok, Jaal?” she asked.

 

He looked at her. “You… are a very good sister, Vetra.”

 

She looked surprised. “What?”

 

Jaal repeated himself. “You are a very good sister. You take care of people. You tell them things they might not think of,” he said, nodding at Drack’s departing form. “You look out for us.”

 

Her mandibles moved, and she blinked. “Thank you,” she finally said. She scratched under her carapace. “I wonder if Sara’s done in the shower yet,” she said.

 

Jaal looked at the time. “It’s been twenty-five minutes. Perhaps you should check on her?”

 

“She never takes longer than five minutes, even after a mission,” Vetra frowned, hopping over the banister and loping down the hall. Jaal followed her at a more sedate pace, but quickened when he heard the bathroom doors open and Vetra’s startled, “Spirits! Sara!”  A moment later he saw Lexi spring out of medbay, and over ship-comm Vetra called for Cora and Liam.

 

Jaal beat the two humans there, and Vetra had Sara bundled up in several towels. The water on the floor was laced with dark red, and pink spots marred the white towels. He blinked.

 

When he had first seen bruises on Cora from a fiend attack, the mottled and irregular blue-purple painting her shoulder and back, he had assumed that human blood was blue, like his. The veins on Cora and Sara’s forearms, the backs of their hands, were blue. He later learned from Gil that human blood was red once it left their bodies, some alien chemical reaction, or perhaps the expression of loss when life-blood left the being it served.

 

He’d seen red human blood again, today, filling the cruel device the Archon had stolen his sample with.

 

“Jaal!”

 

He looked up from the floor. Vetra looked at him desperately, clutching Sara to her and wrapping another towel around her one-handed. “Get more towels! Humans like to be swaddled when they’re upset.” There was a strange and discordant tone to her sub-vocals. He didn’t like it.

 

Lexi put up a placating hand. “Don’t smother her! I need to see what she’s done.”

 

“I just need to get them _out,”_ Sara said, her voice muffled from the towels Vetra had wrapped around her. “I can still _feel him.”_

 

“Sweetheart,” Lexi soothed. “Just let me see your neck.”

 

“It hurts!”

 

“I know, I know--”

 

The doors opened again and Liam and Cora stood at ready. Vetra looked sharply at Liam. “Ok, Mr. Crisis Response. What do we do?” The unharmonious twang--a challenge? Surely not contempt--under her words made Jaal uneasy in an already alarming situation. He forced his current down, convincing his body that an attack was not imminent.

 

Liam frowned in concern. “I’m more trained for large scale--”

 

“This is the crisis we have!” Vetra snapped, her mandibles flaring to show her sharp teeth. “Figure it out!”

 

Liam stumbled backwards into Cora, hands upraised. “Shit, Nyx! Okay!”

 

Lexi had unfolded Sara’s head and hands from the mess of towels. Sara kept trying to reach back to her neck, which Jaal could now see was covered in deep scratches where the Archon had stabbed her with the enormous syringe. Vetra caught one of her hands and Liam caught the other. Some of her nails were red. Cora stayed in the hall, apparently talking to other members of the crew who had gathered. Jaal stood beside Vetra and Sara, cornered in the small room.

 

“Ok, Sara?” Liam began, “Sara, you’re on the Tempest. You’re on your ship, and the crew’s all here and we’re all safe. There’s no kett here, and that big, bony, fuck-face Archon is eating our dust. You hear me? You’re on the Tempest. You’re home. You’re safe, we’re all safe.”

 

Sara was looking at Liam, finally holding still long enough for Lexi to work. “Big, bony, fuck-face?” she repeated.

 

“That’s what I said.” He put his free hand on her cheek, keeping her gaze on his.

 

She shuddered against his palm. “I can still feel him. He injected me with something.” Her lips twisted in distress, and now Jaal felt his current rising in anger at the Archon, and he soothed it again. “I can’t stand it, I wanted to get it out.”

 

“I’d want that, too, Ryder. That sounds awful. He had no right.”

 

SAM spoke. “The transmitter exchanged when the Archon took his sample was fully neutralized seventy-six minutes ago.” Was it Jaal’s imagination, or was the AI alarmed? “There is nothing currently in your body from that ship, with the exception of molecules from air breathed in from the ship, which--”

 

“Ok, that’s fine, SAM!” Vetra yelled, still clinging to Sara. Lexi had a bandage ready and nodded to Liam.

 

“Alright, Sara, Lexi needs to put a bandage on your neck where you scratched it. Can you lean your head forward?”

 

“It’s got an antiseptic and numbing cream. It’ll feel cold and then it won’t hurt anymore,” Lexi said. She leaned into Sara’s line of sight and held out the bandage for her to see.

 

Sara frowned at it. “Am I freaking out?” she asked.

 

“A bit,” Liam said. “Yeah. Perfectly normal.”

 

“A panic response to a physical violation and loss of body autonomy,” Sara recited as though from a textbook. She blinked a few times. “Put the bandage on, Lexi. How much damage did I do?”

 

“Several deep scratches, but with SAM’s help and my monitoring, if you leave it be, they’ll be healed in a couple days. Fortunately, human nails are rather feeble,” Lexi joked.

 

Jaal saw Liam look significantly at Cora and gesture, using his head and eyebrows, from her to Vetra. Cora seemed to understand, and she squeezed into the crowded bathroom and put her hand on Vetra’s arm. “Vetra, let’s let Lexi and Liam and Jaal take it from here. Can you let go of Ryder?”

 

Vetra’s clawed fingers tightened reflexively around Sara, but she nodded and released her. She stepped away but then lunged at Jaal and snatched the forgotten towel out of his hands. “Here’s another,” she insisted before Cora led her to crew quarters. Pulling her hair out of the way, Lexi used the fresh towel to dry off Sara’s neck and put on the bandage. A few moments later, a dual-toned keen from the next room split the tense air and Jaal shivered at the dissonant pain in the sound.

 

Liam glanced at him. “Vetra’s had a rough day, too,” he explained. “Cora’ll take care of her. You done?” he asked Lexi.

 

“For now.”

 

“Ok, Ryder, let’s do something completely different, and get you to your quarters and watch a stupid movie, yeah? Oops.”  Sara could hardly move for all the towels Vetra had wrapped around her, so Jaal bent and picked her up.

 

“Whee!” Sara said in a high voice, and giggled.

 

“Jaal-rides! Fun for everyone!” Liam sing-songed. The three stepped into Sara’s room and Liam gestured Jaal towards Sara’s couch. “Can you stay with her a minute while I get my films?”

 

“Yes, I will stay with her,” Jaal promised, setting her down on the couch.

 

“Right. Be right back.”

 

Jaal sat next to Sara. So strange that only half of the crew seemed to know how to deal with this kind of emotional response. The angara, especially anyone who fought in the Resistance, knew like second nature how to prevent or respond to emotional backlash like this. Though, he mused, it made some sense given how repressed humans especially tended to be about their emotions. He realized with sudden shame that he’d not expected Sara to have a bad reaction like this because he’d become so accustomed to her having control over herself. He would do better in the future.

 

“Well,” she said, startling him from his thoughts. “That was exciting.”

 

“How do you feel?”

 

“A bit embarrassed. I didn’t expect to go crazy in the shower.” She moved under the towels ineffectually, and looked down in surprise. “Why am I in so many towels?”

 

“Vetra said that humans like to be ‘swaddled’ when they are distressed. Is that true?”

 

Sara smiled fondly. “She would think that. She’s such a big sister.”

 

“You did not answer my question.”

 

“Oh, well, ‘swaddling’ is a word usually used for babies, but when humans go into shock it’s a good idea to keep us warm, so towel and blankets are good. And most of us like to be cuddled and hugged when we’re unhappy, if it’s by someone we trust.”

 

“Oh! Like angara, then,” Jaal said, relieved to hear something familiar. “Good. May I cuddle you?”

 

She smiled. “Yes, please.”

 

He scooted closer and wrapped her towel-bundled form in his arms. “Do you want out of some of the towels?” he asked.

 

“...Actually, being wrapped up is kind of nice.”

 

As they sat in silence, Jaal stroked her drying hair, at least, what of it that wasn’t caught in the towels.

 

“Oh, that’s really nice,” Ryder cooed, leaning into him. Jaal’s current warmed in delight. “The tingling is nice, too.” She made a disgusted noise and Jaal froze. “I can’t believe that ass-wipe, just grabbing my hair and pulling me around, ‘nd stabbing me,” she grumbled. “So rude.”

 

Jaal nodded sagely. “Yes, the discourtesy of the kett has long been a problem in Heleus.”

 

Sara snorted, then looked up at him. “Hey, so, I had my freak-out, and Vetra went all mama-bear, but how are you doing?”

 

He smiled and gently stroked his fingers through her hair and across her scalp. “I am concerned about many things, but I am not in distress. I know what I need to do to process what happened.”

 

“What will you do? What helps angara?”

 

“I will meditate on it, determine and address anything that is unresolved within my mind. I will speak to my family and share my worries and emotions with them. I am spending time and physical closeness with a dear friend right now.” He looked down at her. “It is soothing to be able to feel and see that you are alive. I may need reminders.”

 

“That sounds… very emotionally mature.”

 

“Yes. You aliens should try it sometime. Hey!” he exclaimed when she elbowed him through the towels.

 

Liam returned. “Ok, I’ve got _Fleet and Flotilla, Fast and Furious 18: Turian Drift,_ and all seasons of _Brooklyn 99._ What d’you want to watch?”

 

“I think you mean, ‘what do we want to explain to Jaal’?” Sara corrected.

 

“Shit, you’re right.”

 

“OK, I’m getting hot in the towels now,” Sara said, struggling to get up from where she leaned on Jaal. “Turn your backs a moment while I get dressed?”

 

“Right on, Pathfinder. Jaal, let’s say hi to the space hamster.”

 

Jaal and Liam crowded around the cage while Sara freed herself and got dressed. “You good, big guy?” Liam asked.

 

“I am well, Liam. I am glad you were here to help.”

 

“Me, too.”

 

“Liam.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“What does it mean, going ‘all mama-bear’?”

 

 

* * *

 

   
  
**Crew Info Board**

Ok, I’m gonna expand on Dr. T’Perro’s Self-Care guide with mandatory Mental Health First Aid tomorrow night. Dr. T’Perro is helping with Asari, Turian, and Salarian psychology. Drack, please think of something about Krogans to share with the crew. Peebee, we’ll have it in the escape pod if you don’t show up! If we do this and look out for each other, maybe the Pathfinder won’t use all the hot water ever again. [Liam]

[Comments]

>I find running from my problems works fine. HENCE THE ESCAPE POD. [Peebee]

>>See, it’s misinformation like this that causes so much suffering. [Lexi]

>>>I think this is a great idea. I’ll share some wisdom from Sarissa’s handbooks on battle fatigue for Asari commandos. [Cora]

>>>>My self-care is basically tea, so I’ll bring some for everyone. [Suvi]

>>>>>I look forward to learning more about Milky Way psychology. Perhaps some Angaran practices will also be helpful. [Jaal]

>>>>>>That would be wonderful, Cora and Jaal. [Lexi]

>As long as I don’t have to open up about my childhood, I’ll be there. [Vetra]

>>Same. [Gil]

>I SAID I was SORRY. [Sara]

>>...and having said that AGAIN, I think this is a great idea. Thanks, Liam. [Sara]

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A year ago I took a day-long class and became certified in Mental Health First Aid. It was one of the best choices I've made, both professionally (as a college teacher, I used my training a half-dozen times with students in the last year) and personally (validation for my experiences). The certification of good for three years, and I highly encourage you to investigate taking the training yourself--often there are reduced rated for the class, and sometimes they get grants to offer training for free. 
> 
> The program originated in Australia, but is now available in several countries.   
> USA site: https://www.mentalhealthfirstaid.org/  
> International Site: https://mhfa.com.au/our-impact/international-mhfa-programs


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Jaal's loyalty mission "Flesh and Blood"

 

 

“Pathfinder.”

 

Sara awoke when SAM slowly raised the lights. “SAM? Problem--Kett?”

 

“The Tempest and crew are safe, and no alarm has come from the colonies or the Nexus. I awoke you because Jaal has received a call and seems distressed, and given your growing closeness and the nature of his distress, I judged it reasonable to wake you.”

 

Sara had stumbled out of bed and into pants as soon as SAM said ‘Jaal’ and ‘distressed’. “What happened?”

 

“My privacy protocols activated when I registered a call from Jaal’s true mother, but ‘Akksul’ has been mentioned several times.”

 

Sara was already climbing the ladder (ouch, bare feet, bad idea) and ran to the tech lab and slapped the pad for entry. “Enter!” she heard Jaal say from within, and she pushed through the doors.

 

* * *

 

 

When SAM quietly announced his visitor as Sara, Jaal called her in. His mother Vasaana pleaded with him to do something, as though there were any doubt that he would do so! He didn’t know how Akksul had seduced his siblings from sanity, but by the stars, he would find out and end it! In his peripheral vision he saw Sara stop a few feet away, and he ended the call by reassuring his mothers as best as he could. Then he took a moment to breathe through his own frantic emotions and erratic current before turning to her.

 

He couldn’t repress his jolt of surprise. What had happened to her  _ hair _ ? 

 

“Are you okay?” she asked. He felt brief annoyance at the human habit to ask questions when the answer was clear, but shook it off. He was not angry with Sara. 

 

“Three of my brothers and sisters have joined the Roekaar.” He rose, electricity snapping under his skin, and snarled, “Akksul has poisoned them with his hatred of aliens.” He paced to the other side of the lab.

 

“And your mothers want you to bring them back,” Sara guessed. 

 

He turned to her. “The Roekaar have made camp at the Forge.” He remembered the beauty there, the sanctity of the place, his awe at seeing it, and briefly hated Akksul for tainting it. “Many consider it the birthplace of our civilization. Akksul,” again he growled out the name, “likely believes this...bold move will create more fanatics for his cause.” The agitated twitches beneath his skin shivered into muted static and he stopped and bowed his head, overcome with dread and fear for his family. “Ryder,” he pleaded. “He has my family, but I don’t think I can do this alone.” 

 

“You don’t have to,” Sara said immediately. “Just tell me the time and the place.”

 

Relief made him feel lightheaded. “No hesitation!” he marveled. His bioelectricity calmed somewhat. “That is what I love about you. I have a contact who’s been monitoring the Roekaar. I’ll set up a rendezvous with her.”

 

“Whatever you need,” Sara said emphatically, “it’s yours.”

 

“Thank you.” He rested his big hands on her arms, needing to touch her. “How did you know to come? I was planning to ask tomorrow, but--”

 

“SAM woke me when he saw you were upset. He only started paying attention when Akksul’s name was mentioned; it’s all passive observation of the ship otherwise,” she reassured him.

 

“I am not concerned about SAM, except… he woke you?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He looked at her hair again and gestured to it, strangely lumpy and only half in its braid. The shorter hairs (“fly-aways” she called them) were sticking up in all directions, some still mashed against the side of her face, some sticking straight out, many bent strangely. Combined with her slightly puffy eyes… “I thought you had been made ill? I have never seen your hair so… so…” He had no idea what to call it.

 

Her eyes widened in understanding. “Oh, no no no, this is just bed-head. I have famous bed-head in the Ryder family. Scott wakes up with perfect hair, that ass--he’ll probably wake up from his stupid coma looking like Fabio--but I always get out of bed looking like a monster.” She pressed her palms to her hair, to no appreciable effect.

 

“I’ve seen what you sleep on,” he said sceptically. “I don’t know how it could do  _ that _ .”

 

“Well, we lay on it, and drool on it, and I flop around a lot, so it gets, uh, dishevelled.”

 

“Ah.” Jaal frowned. “I don’t want my problems interfering with your rest--”

 

“--and I want to know if any of my good friends are unhappy, and if I could do something to make it better. It’s good, Jaal. I’m glad SAM woke me.” She put her small hand on his broad shoulder and pushed a little in emphasis. Then she activated her omni-tool and said, “Kallo, change our heading to Havarl, please.” After Kallo’s acknowledgement, she looked at him and said, “We’ll get your siblings back.”

 

He shuddered with emotion, gratitude and fondness for her catching against the panic and anger still sparking within him. He put his hand over hers. “Thank you.” She squeezed his shoulder, and he looked around the lab, from the monitor to his bed. “I cannot imagine how I will sleep now,” he said with a forced huff of amusement. 

 

She nodded sympathetically. “Tea?”

 

“I could not keep anything down, I’m afraid. I wish I had a sewing project, but I’d probably just stab myself with the needle,” he joked weakly, squeezing his hands together. They were still shaking. They needed to  _ do _ something,  _ he _ needed to do something, something to save his siblings before they were killed or did something unfixable, needed to punch the smirk off Akksul’s arrogant face, needed to--

 

“Jaal?”

 

He took a deep breath. He could do none of that, now. And he needed to be calm. For his family. 

 

Telling himself that wasn’t working. Years of low-level animosity between himself and Akksul amped into more, and now this threat to his family… Had Akksul done this deliberately? Targeted his family because Jaal dared to befriend the Pathfinder, dared to believe that they could be allies? Would he be so petty-- 

 

“Jaal!” 

 

He suddenly realized Sara had been calling his name and was still touching his shoulder. He turned toward her and gasped. Her fly-away hairs stuck straight out from her head, and the shorter wisps that had come loose from her braid also stood out from her body. Each strand was quivering. Ryder’s eyes were wide. 

 

“You, ah--” she laughed lightly. “Are you okay?” 

 

He gaped at her, and brought his hand up to brush the tips of the staticked hair. Tiny sparks jumped from them to his hand, and Sara twitched.

 

“I apologize,” he said, too bemused to be embarrassed. “My bioelectrics-- When angara are agitated… I didn’t know it would affect your hair like this.”

 

“It’s all sticking up, isn’t it?” she guessed. He nodded. “Well, that explains the tingling,” she said, appearing to have difficulty getting the words out through her grin. “I have an idea.”  She stepped back from him, her hair still standing on end. “I’ll be right back. Stay here?” she asked, halfway to the door.  He nodded his acquiescence and she left, jogging away. 

 

He sat on his bed and concentrated on breathing deeply and evenly, smoothing the electricity in his body into its proper channels and grounding it. He would not be able to meditate in this state, but perhaps he could still calm himself.

 

The doors reopened, and Sara entered with her familiar comb in hand. “I thought… Well, you said you enjoyed combing my hair, and god knows it needs combing, and I really enjoyed it, too, so I thought maybe we could sit and talk, and this would give you something to do with your hands, until you feel steadier. And the oils in the comb are supposed to be anti-static, but even if it isn’t, the tingling was fun.”

 

She was unconsciously rubbing the spine of the comb with her thumb as she spoke, which Jaal knew meant she was nervous. But nervous about what? This was a perfect solution. He felt touched at her care and, knowing the difficulty she had in asking for something she enjoyed, honored at her trust. 

 

He tried to let all that show on his face as he stood, walked to her, and gathered the comb and her hand in his, holding them close to his chest. “You are so kind, Sara,” he said softly. “You are kind and thoughtful and…” he hesitated, wanting to simply express his love but aware that humans used the word more selectively. “You are simply lovely, in every way,” he compromised.

 

Her smile was like a sunrise. She sat on the floor next to his bed and he settled behind her.

 

“Tell me about Scott,” he said, gathering her messy hair and carefully beginning to comb.

 

“Oh, man… Do angara have puns? Scott is  _ awful _ at making puns. By which I mean, he’s amazing at it, and I hate him for it. This one time…”

 

Though neither of them slept any more that night, they both felt their time together was just what they needed. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of this chapter include the full events of Jaal's loyalty mission "Flesh and Blood".

 

_ “If Akksul’s willing to blow up the Forge, there’s nothing he won’t do. Ryder, if he shows up…” _

 

_ “Follow your lead. I know.” _

 

***

 

_ “I speak for our people! And I say,” Akksul raised his arm. Ryder raised her rifle. Jaal cautioned her, “Ryder, don’t!” _

 

_ Akksul continued speaking over Jaal, “you’re done in Heleus!” He chuckled darkly at Ryder’s half-raised rifle and said mockingly, “Martyr me. Please. I  _ dare _ you.”  _

 

_ Ryder’s hands remained rock steady, but Jaal could hear the supressed trembling in her breathing. Her eyes were locked with Akksul’s, and she resolutely said, “I made a promise to my friend that you’re making really hard to keep.” She lowered her rifle.  _

 

_ Akksul’s eyes narrowed and he turned from her with a snort of disgust. Raising his arms to the assembled Roekaar, he said, “They move onto our planets. They take our resources. Make us weak!” _

 

_ “I’ve watched Ryder make planets habitable!” Jaal cried, his arms open in entreaty. _

 

_ “Exactly!” Akksul snapped. “And they’ll never let us forget it!” _

 

_ “She rescued our beloved Moshae!” Jaal continued as though Akksul had not spoken.  _

 

_ “I know,” Akksul muttered. _

 

_ “Saved her life!” _

 

_ “I know… Stop defending them!” _

 

_ “The Moshae trusts Ryder and--” _

 

_ “Stop!” Akksul raised his pistol and pointed it at Jaal’s chest. Jaal took a step back. “We’ve been fighting the wrong enemy. Maybe the enemy is this traitor!” _

 

_ “Easy…” Jaal said lowly, though whether he spoke to Akksul or to Sara, who, white-faced, raised her rifle again, was unclear. _

 

_ “Jaal?” Ryder whispered, her voice saturated with fear.  _

 

_ “Don’t!” he said again to her. To Akksul, he implored, “The Moshae trusts Ryder. You’ve become a danger to your own people. Walk away.” _

 

_ Akksul’s eyes flared. “Or… I kill you and reveal the Resistance for the traitors they are!” Akksul pulled the trigger and everyone watched the white-blue bolt of energy flying in slow-motion towards Jaal and searing his cheek as he turned his head. The energy bolt chipped a chunk of rock from the wall behind him.  _

 

_ In the silence that followed, Ryder only remained upright because of Drack standing right behind her, surreptitiously supporting her. She was blind and deaf to the angara around her, to Jaal’s parting words to Akksul, “The alien is not the monster here.” To whatever Akksul said afterward.  All she saw was the bullet going into Jaal’s head.  _

 

***

 

Lathoul’s back was badly bruised--the blast from Teviint’s gun hit the spine of his armor in such a way that it compressed a main bioelectric channel and temporarily paralyzed him from the impact site down--but he was already on the mend, and proving it by teasing their sister for her poor shooting. That was his way, to soothe and mend and forgive. Jaal could not comprehend how he’d been convinced to follow Akksul. Teviint was still beside herself at what she had done, apologizing again and again to Lathoul. Baranjj had, uncharacteristically, not said a single word since leaving the Forge, but rotated his gaze from Jaal to Teviint (glaring at them both) to Lathoul (a sad, ashamed look) to Ryder (perplexed). 

 

Jaal himself...relief was foremost in his mind, that his brothers and sisters were largely unharmed (Lathoul had already been back on his feet when they emerged from the Forge, and even walked back to the shuttle mostly on his own power), relief that he’d overcome Akksul without stooping to his level of violence, that Sara had trusted him. Anger still simmered beneath his skin, anger at his siblings’ folly, anger at Akksul, but it sparked alongside hope that the Roekaar could be turned from their path of zealotry. 

 

He took a deep breath and held Lathoul’s hand, exchanging reassurance through their joined currents. Those were worries for another time. He had saved his family from Akksul. The Forge was intact. Ryder had trusted him. These were victories.

 

Three of their mothers awaited them when they arrived at Daar Pelaav, and they swarmed their children when they exited the shuttle. Jaal watched their mothers fuss and talk over the other three, scolding mixed with exclamations of relief and worry, half-hearted cuffs over the head alternated with rib-crushing hugs. He stepped a few paces away, endured the fervent gratitude from his mothers before they went back to the wayward children. No, not children--Feladyr was right, they were adults. But the way they acted now was like nothing more than children who had escaped terrible peril by the narrowest margin, whose parents were equally afraid and angry and glad. 

 

Drack loudly cleared his throat behind Jaal.

 

“Yes?”

 

Drack looked very serious, and a bit accusing. “Listen, kid, I’m glad you got the kids back to camp, but you  _ need _ to talk to Ryder. She’s almost literally pulling out her hair, and she won’t speak to me.” 

 

Jaal frowned in immediate concern. “But she was not injured; why is she--”

 

Drack stopped him with a raised claw and a cutting glare. “Really. You can’t think of why she might be upset at you. Not a single reason.”

 

“At me?” Jaal asked, taken aback. He looked around for her. 

 

“She’s on the steps,” Drack said, glaring at Jaal until he started moving. “Idiot,” Drack muttered, roughly shoving Jaal in the right direction. 

 

Jaal stumbled a few paces before seeing her. As Drack said, Sara was seated at the steps on the bottom of the platform, her knees brought up to her chest, elbows locked on either side of her knees. Her helmet lay carelessly on the ground as though it had been dropped, and had rolled away from her. Her small hands were buried in her hair and knotted into fists. She was breathing very evenly, but it was forced evenness, something he’d only seen her do when trying to compose herself in moments of great distress. He knelt on the ground in front of her, and could then see her fists pulling painfully at her hair, her knuckles blanched white with strain, the scant give in the skin on her skull stretched tight by her relentless grip.

 

He could almost tangibly feel the emotion in her, the tension barely held back, and he was afraid to touch her, lest she break. However, he couldn’t not reach out, and he kept his hands a few inches away from her and asked, “Sara?”

 

“You--” she whispered, staring unseeing at the ground between her boots.

 

He bent his head, trying to catch her gaze. “Sara, I don’t understand. What--” 

 

“He shot you.”

 

He leaned back, surprised. “Only a little. See?” he gestured at his face, even though she wasn’t looking at him. “It is already cauterized. It will heal cleanly.”

 

“He shot you,” she repeated, her voice small and thin and high. 

 

Jaal said nothing, still trying to get her to look at him. 

 

“He shot you, and you asked me to--” she gasped like she hadn’t been breathing, and her next exhalation was a wrenching sob. “You asked me to do nothing. You asked me to stand by while  _ he shot you in the head.” _ Her voice had become louder, and anguish bled from every word.

 

Jaw slack with dismay, he gently put his hands over her fists. “Yes, he shot me.” He squeezed her hands, hoping she would release herself. “And I am fine. Sara, please, look at me.” She whimpered and his heart broke. “Sara, dearest, please, look at me and see that I am fine!”

 

She slowly raised her head, guided by his hands on her, and he felt a void open up behind his stomach at the haunted look in her eyes, and another stab to his heart when two tears fell from them. “I was so  _ afraid  _ for you, Jaal,” she said slowly, and each word was filled with her fear. “I knew that killing him would embolden the Roekaar, and I knew making him a martyr would be disastrous, and I knew that you had a plan and I said I’d follow your lead.” She stared at him and he forced himself to remain still and keep his eyes with her, to hear the pain he’d caused her. “I  _ knew _ all of those things, and I did nothing when he was inches from killing you. From killing  _ my friend _ \-- not just the Tempest’s Resistance liaison, not just my crewmember, not just the first angara to trust me, to trust us, but  _ my friend!” _ Her hands trembled as she spoke, and at the last two words she shook her fists towards him, or tried to, because they were still fisted into her hair and she yanked her head forward with the violent motion. 

 

He cried out in dismay and shuffled closer, awkward on his knees, and tried to untangle her hands from her hair. To see her hurt even more was unbearable. “Sara,” he said helplessly. 

 

“You’re my friend, Jaal,” she said again, tears running down her pale cheeks. He’d freed one hand and it fell limply to her side, trembling. “You’re my friend, and you asked me to trust you and for a second, I thought I’d watched you die.” He freed her other hand and took up them both, holding them in his bigger hands tight to his chest. “Just stood there and done nothing, while he killed you. While my trust let him kill you. From where I was standing, I didn't see it go  _past_ you; I saw it go _through_ you, and knew my trust had killed you, and then you didn't fall, and I realized, but it took me a second..." He felt her fists clench within his. "It was the longest second of my life,” she finished in a whisper. 

 

He felt his own eyes stinging with grief. “Oh, Sara,” he said mournfully. “I am so sorry.” He gathered her in his arms, resting one knee more comfortably on the step and enfolding her smaller form in his arms and rofjinn, as though to protect her from everything. “I am so, so sorry, darling one!”

 

Jaal felt more than heard her short, cut-off sobs against his chest, and he pushed current toward her, knowing she would not feel the reassurance and apology the way an angara would, but needing to do  _ something. _ In the silence that followed, he heard Drack, still above them on the platform, say to someone, “Back off, kid. They’re having a moment.”

 

Jaal hugged her tightly. “Please, tell me what I can do to make this right,” he asked. He drew back just enough to see her face. It was splotchy pink now and wet with tears. 

 

She inhaled unsteadily and wiped at her eyes. Looking up at him, her face twisted again in distress when she saw his wound and he reflexively raised more current to reassure her. It must have tickled, because she chuckled weakly and reached her hands up to carefully cup his cheeks, her delicate fingers avoiding his injury. She looked at him, eyes searching every square inch of his face. “Just remind me,” she said. “And let me see that you’re okay.”

 

“ _ Anything, _ dearest,” he promised. He lifted one hand from their embrace to stroke her disarrayed hair, gently combing with his fingertips as though to sweep away any lingering pain. She leaned into his touch and, overcome, he pressed his uninjured cheek to hers firmly and said again, “I am fine. I’m alive, and everyone’s ok. Thank you for trusting me, Sara. When I asked it of you, I didn’t know that doing so would cause you so much pain. I would never want that, my darling one!” 

 

She made a strange, hitched noise and leaned into his cheek before raising her head and smiling at him. Relief washed through him so powerfully he almost lost his balance. She stroked his facial ridge again--he barely kept from purring-- and said with an air of finality, “And never do that to me again!” And she punched him,  _ very  _ gently, on his unmarred cheek. 

 

He staggered backward and fell on his backside dramatically. “How could you?” he cried in mock-anger. “I am an injured man!”

 

She wiped ineffectually at her wet cheeks again. “You’re a big jerk, ‘s what you are,” she muttered. 

 

He rose and helped her to her feet, and pulled her back into a hug. “I really am sorry,” he whispered into her hair. 

 

She squeezed his chest. “I know. I’m really glad you’re ok.” Exchanging another smile, they walked back up the stairs where, to Sara’s chagrin and Jaal’s resignation, more of his mothers and aunts and siblings had arrived and everyone was looking at them with undisguised interest. Sara shifted awkwardly.

 

Drack stomped up to them and addressed Jaal, “So, have you learned your lesson, or do I need to punch you, too?”

 

Jaal held up his hands defensively. “The lesson is well-learned.”

 

Sara’s omnitool chimed, and she turned away, muttering about ‘interfering space grandpas’. 

 

Drack smiled--at least, Jaal thought it was a smile. “Good!” he boomed. “I’m gonna teach the kids here how to add kett bones to their armor. It’ll be the hot new trend in the Resistance.”

 

And before Jaal could make sense of that, Drack turned and stomped away toward Baranjj and Lethoul, who did look excited. Jaal turned to follow Sara but found himself hedged in by no fewer than two of his mothers and three aunts. 

 

“Sooooo…” Vasaana said, drawing out the word. “What was that,” she tossed her head significantly at Sara, “all about?”

 

Jaal sighed.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Jaal invites Ryder to meet his family on Havarl. Spoilers of Jaal's romance.

 

She said yes! She returned his feelings! Jaal was overcome with joy. This visit to his home could not have gone better. It was more than worth the ribbing his family was giving him, and would continue to give him for the foreseeable future. 

 

And humans kissed, too! They kissed the same as angara! And Sara kissed so very well. Her lips were softer than his own, had more texture, but were just as mobile and expressive. Jaal loved kissing her. Why had they only kissed once? That was a travesty. He should kiss her again. Would she enjoy him using his tongue, or did humans not do that? Surely his brave Sara would not let unfamiliarity dissuade her from experimenting. He was certain he could make her love it. He wanted to try immediately. Or perhaps that was too fast? Yes, better not unveil all of his skills at once. He would continue seducing her with his lips alone, and then--

 

A guffaw from next to him broke him from his daydreaming. Baranjj smirked at Jaal. “Stars, Jaal. You’ve got it bad.”

 

“What is it doing?”

 

Jaal and Baranjj looked to where Lathoul and Koana stood at a doorway, surreptitiously watching Sara. She’d found a secluded corner (or what passed for one in an angaran household) and was finger-combing her hair, apparently unaware that she was being watched. 

 

“She, not it. Ryder is a she,” Lathoul corrected. “Humans have genders.”

 

“But Ryder is not a mother.”

 

“Humans do not seem to divide themselves in that way. But others say ‘her’ and ‘she’ in reference to the Pathfinder.”

 

“Fine, then. What is  _ she _ doing?” asked Koana.

 

“ _ She _ is combing her hair,” Jaal said, startling them with his sudden appearance behind them. “It is a human thing.” He looked at Sara and felt a wide grin split his face. He could not help himself. He remembered Liam saying something about pulling hair… Another thing to try the next time they kissed. 

 

“Combing,” Lathoul said, trying the strange word.

 

Jaal saw her take a section of hair from the crown of her head and divide it into three parts. Puffing his chest proudly, he explained further, “Now, she is preparing to  _ braid _ her hair.”

 

“It looks complicated,” Baranjj said. His voice was dubious, but his current betrayed his curiosity.

 

“It is not, with practice,’ Jaal said smugly. 

 

“Hmmm, and how much  _ practice _ have you gotten, eh?”

 

Before he could punch Baranjj in the face, Jaal noticed Sara do something different. She was still making a braid, but… He moved through the doorway to get a closer look, aware of his siblings crowding behind him. She took the first three sections and folded right over middle, left over middle, but then right over middle, and she gathered another section of hair from the right side of her head, just below the first section and added it to the right-turned-middle section, and put left over middle and gathered a section from the left side, further down, to add.

 

They watched silently for a few repeats of the pattern. Then Jaal couldn’t restrain himself any longer. He strode to her and asked, “What is this? You did not show me this braid.”

 

She turned her torso to look at him, her arms still raised as she held the growing braid still. The long, smooth line from her elbow to her waist was very enticing in that pose. “It’s a bit more advanced, but I could show you now?”

 

“Can we watch?” asked Koana.

 

Sara nodded. Jaal settled behind her on the seat. Jaal went to take the hair from her hands, but she tightened her grip. “I should show you while I explain.”

 

“Alright,” Jaal said, settling his hands on her waist. “Is this okay?”

 

She turned to look at him over her shoulder again, smiling through her blush. “It’s wonderful.” She straightened her torso (how thrilling to feel her move under his hands!) and cleared her throat. “To do this, you’re making the same motions in the same order, but every step, every pass of outer over middle, you pick up some more hair,” she demonstrated, “and add it to the portion you pass over the middle.That way, you incorporate more and more hair evenly. Then at the base of the skull…” She had obviously done this many times, and Jaal could only keep up with her movements because of his familiarity with braiding, “...when there’s no more hair to add, you braid as usual.”

 

Jaal ran his fingertips over the even braiding, marvelling at her skill. “It is beautiful. Does it have a name?”

 

“A French braid, but I don’t know why it’s called that,” she replied. 

 

“May I try?” he asked.

 

“Of course!” She dropped her braid into his hands, and he carefully unraveled her work, smiling as he passed the strands of her hair though his fingers. Baranjj made a sarcastic noise and Jaal glowered at him. Koana smacked his shoulder, insisting, “It’s sweet! Shut up.”

 

He began as she had, pulling aside a triangle of hair from the crown of her head. He divided it in three and braided, adding small segments of hair from the sides at each pass. It was like building something. 

 

As her braid grew in his adoring hands, he said softly, “This braid is like you. You started out in Heleus small and weak, lost and adrift. In spite of that, you drew in others, enticed them to you, and they joined you and added strength. You inspire curiosity throughout the galaxy, attract people with your honesty and courage,” he gathered hair from behind her ear, gently caressing her earlobe, and she shivered, “your loyalty and effectiveness, just as you have enthralled me. You draw us all together and create something beautiful,” he had added all of her hair and began the more simple braid down her back, “and strong,” he braided the last few inches and tied it off, “and unbreakable. This braid is you. It is the family you have made of us.”

 

Sara reached one hand up, grasping until Jaal put his hand in hers, and with the other wiped at her face. He looked over her shoulder in concern. She was crying. “Dearest!” he exclaimed.

 

She waved her hand and said in a shaking voice, “I’m not sad, just… feeling a lot. I don’t know what to say.”

 

Koana trilled with delight and ran off, shouting, “Everyone! Jaal said the most amazing thing!”  Even Baranjj looked affected, his eyes filled with emotion. 

 

“May I try, Sara?” asked Lathoul, kneeling to look up at her.

 

Jaal could see her smile while she nodded, and through small gestures and touches, Jaal sat them both on the floor. He sat facing the seat, his legs resting, bent-kneed. He moved Sara until she sat on the circle of his legs, her own resting over his thighs and encircling his waist. He then scooted them back so that Lathoul could reach from his seat, and enfolded Sara in his arms. She his her face in his mantle. “Are you well, darling one?”

 

He felt her nod, and she looked up enough to say, “Yes, I’m fine. I’m happy. Just, you know. Need to hide a bit.”

 

Lathoul cleared his throat. “If you’d like to be alone, I can leave.”

 

Sara smiled again at him and patted his knee. “No, please. It’s just a silly thing I do when I’m overcome with emotion and happiness. I’ll just, uh, hide against Jaal, and he can teach you how to braid, and I’ll just… figure out how to deal with being surrounded by people who like me and a family, and…” she fluttered both hands expressively. “You know.”

 

Lathoul’s confused look to Jaal confirmed that neither of them knew, really, but that was okay. Jaal instructed, “Unravel what I did. Be gentle, though!”

 

“I promise, Jaal!”

 

Once Lathoul had undone the french braid, he said marvellingly, “It is so soft! And light!”

 

Jaal purred with satisfaction. “Yes it is. Now, divide it in three…” He repeated Sara’s instructions to him, those many weeks ago, and before long Lathoul was braiding Sara’s hair steadily. Jaal felt a burst of pride at his clever brother.

 

“It is like basket-making,” Lathoul mused, “the over-and-under of each part.” He turned to Baranjj, who kept his distance but seemed unable to turn away, watching Lathoul’s quick movements with fascination. “Ha!” Lathoul exclaimed. “And you said basket-weaving was a stupid thing to learn. Now look-- the same skill is saving the galaxy.”

 

“It is not the same thing!” Baranjj huffed.

 

“How would you know? You learned to throw pots! Anyone can throw a pot.”

 

“Ugh, it’s not that kind of throwing!”

 

Jaal tuned them out, accustomed to the old argument between them. To Sara in his arms, he asked, “Feeling better?”  

 

She nodded against him, and said, “What you said…” her lips brushed against his skin, and he  _ wanted-- _ “That’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever said to me. I feel...honored and touched and like it’s so much to live up to, but you also make me feel like I  _ can _ live up to it.” She raised her head from his neck, and he could still feel her lips on him. “As long as I’m with you.” 

 

Jaal pressed his lips together and settled for a smile, even though he wanted to climb to the roof and cry for all Havarl to hear that they were together, Jaal and Sara. “Always, darling one.”

 

Jaal thought nothing of the current rising in the room-- he was so happy, and Lathoul was buzzing with satisfaction and success--until Sara stifled a giggle. As Lathoul finger-combed out his latest braid, she giggled more, and smoothed down the static in her hair. Jaal nodded for Lathoul to continue, but after a few more small chuckles, Sara’s joy seemed to drain from her, and she looked sad.

 

He cupped her cheek. “What is it, dearest?”

 

She swallowed, and whispered to him, “I miss Scott.”

 

Jaal suddenly remembered that she was alone, her only remaining family asleep and unwaking, and compassion surged through his bioelectric channels. Lathoul instinctively responded with concern, and Jaal projected reassurance to him. Knowing Sara could feel the current but not the nuance, he hugged her tightly to him. “While your brother sleeps, you can borrow my family,” he offered.  Hearing murmuring, he looked up. “See? I have plenty.”

 

“We’re surrounded, aren’t we?” Sara guessed, her face back against his neck. He quite liked it there.

 

He looked around at the assembled family, as many as would fit in the room while giving them a two-yard berth, all looking at them with expressions of happiness, interest, and fond amusement. “I’m afraid so.”

 

“I’ll just stay hidden here, then.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to write a sequel to this story that's essentially about how they have sex, exploring angaran gender stuff and essentially rejecting the idea that the angara assume binary gender the way the game has them do (while also trying to stay canonical enough, given that angarans in the game use binary pronouns for each other). Haven't got it all worked out yet (I do know I'm going to blame their translation implants for translating ideas of gender over what is specifically said in angaran, or something like that), but hopefully it'll be intriguing and creative and sexy! I only mention because I allude to a couple things with Lathoul and Koana's convo about Sara.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaal helps Sara's recovery after Meridian and defeating the Archon (aka 'that bony fuck-face'). Contains spoilers for the end of the game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had major surgery a couple months ago, and am now dealing with the resultant hair loss, which sucks, because I really like my long hair and don't like it thinning out, BUT OH WELL. 
> 
> Thank you, everyone, for reading and for the kudos and lovely comments! I really did not expect this story to get so much attention, and I'm so pleased that so many of you have found it enjoyable and relatable and in-character. Thank you!

 

 

After the Archon’s attack on the Hyperion and abduction of Scott, after Sara’s desperate launching of Remnant ships and the race to Meridian, after the do-or-die battle in Meridian’s core, after the incredible rush of so many people throughout Helius coming together--every person aided, everyone who worked with the Pathfinder--after the cheers of the fighters amidst smoking kett corpses at their eleventh-hour success, both Ryder twins collapsed. Jaal was not ashamed to admit that he panicked, hoisting Sara in his arms and yelling for Lexi, for someone, to help. He later admitted to himself that he had been amped up with adrenaline and the unsteady energy of too much, too important, in too short a time, but his reaction had seemed perfectly rational in the moment.

 

Lexi and the human doctor who had cared for Scott both assured Jaal and the rest of her crew that Sara was simply overwhelmed and exhausted, and needed uninterrupted rest to recover from the relentless strain of the last day, as well as whatever lingering trauma remained from the Archon’s meddling with SAM.

 

It seemed to Jaal that SAM knew more about what the Archon had done than either of the doctors, even though they insisted on running tests that simply verified SAM’s determinations.

 

“Sara will need time, but I detect nothing that would indicate that she will not make a full recovery,” SAM repeated.

 

Dr. Carlyle seemed to want to do more just for the sake of doing more, and Jaal understood the urge, but fortunately other patients required his attention and Lexi’s. As a compromise between keeping them in medbay where the beds were needed by other patients, and Jaal’s desire to move Sara back to the Tempest, the twins were moved to their father’s cabin, which had sustained no damage. Jaal didn’t leave Sara’s side in the days that the twins slept side by side, sitting in a chair at Sara’s side of the bed. Often Liam, Cora, or (to Jaal’s surprise) Pathfinder Avitus Rix sat with Scott.

 

It was a difficult time for Jaal. In spite of SAM’s reassurances, seeing the physical toll on Sara--the deep hollows under her eyes, the slack of her muscles, the shallowness of her breath--was terrible, especially given his angaran discomfort with illness. Of course Jaal would sit by any of his family or friends should they be sick, if they shared that vulnerability with him, but angaran illnesses that also had such a dramatic effect on the body often killed them. In a fit of helplessness two days into his vigil, Jaal hailed a Resistance ship and asked for a sunlamp to install in the room before Liam reminded him that it would have no effect on humans.

 

The Moshae sent one anyways, as well as an angaran-style cot to put beside Sara’s sleeping form, and told Jaal to sleep or she would tell his mothers that he was neglecting himself. Begrudgingly he obeyed, scooting the cot as close to Sara’s bed as he could, and reaching a hand out to cover her heart, making SAM promise to wake him if there was any change.

 

Fourteen hours later, Jaal woke much refreshed and feeling far better, but Sara and Scott still slept.

 

“Is her color better?” Jaal asked anxiously, touching Sara’s still-pale cheek. She was the correct temperature, at least.

 

“I detect no change in her pallor over the last twelve hours, but she is healing and in no danger,” SAM reported.

 

“And how are you, Jaal?” Lexi asked, pointing a scanner at him.

 

He waved her off. “I am better,” he said, nodding at the sunlamp. “There is nothing I can do to help?”

 

Lexi shook her head. “Unfortunately, this is one of those times when we just have to wait. Sara’s body will wake when she’s ready. Scott, too,” she added for Avitus’ benefit.

 

Jaal ran his fingers across Sara’s brow. “Perhaps…” he began, feeling suddenly childish and uncertain. “It would not harm her if I combed her hair?”

 

Lexi smiled kindly. “Not at all.”

 

When Jaal had returned from fetching Sara’s special comb from the Tempest, Avitus was alone with the twins, looking thoughtfully at Scott’s shorter hair.

 

Jaal retook his seat and carefully lifted up Sara’s head, moving her long hair out where he could reach it. His current flowed happily through him, relieved to do _something,_ even if it was only to carefully comb out days-old tangles _._ After a few calming minutes, he could pass the comb easily through her hair.

 

He became aware that Avitus was watching him carefully, so he paused and tilted his head to the same angle that Vetra did to show curiosity.

 

Avitus shook his head. “I never paid much attention to human grooming. Why are you doing...that?”

 

Jaal smiled. “When she is awake, combing her hair feels pleasant to her, and it is pleasant for me. Hair-combing is a human bonding activity, an act for close friends. Sara taught me to braid her hair,” he remembered proudly.

 

Avitus said nothing, but Jaal kept a subtle eye on him and resumed his task. Avitus looked at Scott’s face, relaxed in sleep, and reached halfway towards the human’s head before catching himself with a jerk and pulling his hand back. Jaal repeated the inquisitive head tilt.

 

“I-- We…” Avitus stammered. “I shouldn’t. We haven’t…” He trailed off, his mandibles pulled tightly to his jaw in an expression Jaal recognized as ‘uncomfortable’.

 

Jaal nodded. “It is best to ask,” he said. “Until you get something called ‘blanket consent’,” he added after a moment.

 

Avitus huffed a small laugh, then straightened when his SAM alerted him to something. “I’ll be back,” he said, rising from his chair. He nodded at Jaal and left.

 

As was his habit, Jaal carefully took each hair that came out with the comb and set it aside. Since he still had not decided what to make with the precious strands, he kept them safe in his bunk on the Tempest.

 

Jaal frowned and held up the comb. There were many loose hairs caught in the teeth. He stared, and suddenly remembered Sara’s words, _“As long as it’s not coming out in clumps…”_  He looked down at the white pillow beneath her head and saw several other loose strands.

 

He took a steady breath and told himself not to panic. If a human’s hair falls out at a steady rate, and Sara’s hair had not been tended in three days, of course there would be more loose. Three average day’s worth of combing.

 

This was far more than that.

 

He took her hair in his hands and combed it through shaking fingers. As her hair fell back to the pillow, he held up his hands and saw many dark strands clinging to him, their ends floating higher in the air as his dread amped up his current. The low lights flickered twice.

 

Lexi stepped through the doors. “SAM said I was...needed…” she trailed off once she saw him. “Jaal, your charge. I need you to calm down.”

 

He looked from the staticked hair grabbing his fingers to her. “You said it wouldn’t hurt her. It _never_ comes out this much.”

 

She held up her blue hands placatingly. “Jaal, it’s normal. Humans--”

 

“It is NOT normal!” he roared, a petty part of him satisfied to see her jump at his volume. “You _promised_ she would be...SAM!” he looked accusingly at the ceiling.

 

“Jaal, Dr. T’Perro and I assumed knowledge about human responses to stress that you did not have,” SAM said. “A common human physiological reaction to a physical or emotional trauma is temporary hair loss. The body prioritizes other biological functions in order to heal, and hair, being non-critical, goes into a dormant phase.”

 

Lexi continued, “Often it takes weeks or even a couple months after the trauma for a patient to notice hair loss. We didn’t expect it to happen so quickly after-- actually,” she said, tilting her head consideringly, “hair loss now fits the timeline as a reaction to SAM stopping and restarting her heart on the Archon’s ship. Exacerbated by the high levels of constant stress she’s been under. It just looks like terrible timing, now.”

 

Jaal fell back into his chair and calmed his bioelectric channels. Once he forced his hands to stop shaking and sparking, he took each hair strand by strand and lay them at his side. “It is normal,” he repeated.

 

“Yes,” both SAM and Lexi said.

 

“This...hair loss, it is so commonplace and non-concerning that it did not occur to you to say anything, to warn me.”

 

“That is correct,” said SAM. “I apologize for the oversight and the distress it has caused.”

 

Jaal buried his face in his hands. Into his palms, he mumbled, “How can humans…” How could they sleep for days and have it be healing. How could their bodies endure such drastic changes, and have those changes--her deep bruises, her quiescence, now her _hair--_ be completely unremarkable. They were so fragile, humans--no natural armor, no bioelectricity to protect them, vulnerable to the elements in a way no angara was, no claws or venom or spikes or powerful mass. He knew they were fragile. And the things that _should_ signify fatal injuries were mere afterthoughts. Not worth mentioning. Temporary.

 

“Jaal,” Lexi sat next to him. “I’m really sorry. I’m so used to human peculiarities that I forget how foreign they can be, when you think about them.”

 

“If our bodies changed this much, were _this still,”_ Jaal said with difficulty, “we would not recover. Illness is taboo to casually discuss for us because it is so often fatal.”

 

“I’ll put something together about what to expect with human recovery, and SAM can answer any other questions you have. Though,” she paused and frowned, “sometimes there can be some emotional fallout with hair loss, even if it’s temporary. Hair is often a means of individual expression, so hair loss can be disproportionately upsetting to humans. Just prepare for her to be emotional about it, and remind her it will come back.”

 

“Sara,” Scott croaked.

 

“Scott!” Lexi was instantly at his side, scanning him and looking at his eyes. “Sara is right next to you, and she’ll be fine. How do you feel?”

 

Jaal took Sara’s still hand in his, squeezing it as though doing so would wake her up.

 

“My head hurts. We won, right?”

 

“Yes, we won. What’s the last thing you remember?”

 

“Mmm, Meridian, pain, Sara, more pain, cheering, and really bright light?” Scott turned to look at Sara. “Wow, she looks awful.”

 

Jaal scowled at both him and Lexi.

 

“You’re not exactly looking your best, either, Scott,” Lexi said. “Good thing Pathfinder Rix hasn’t seemed to mind.”

 

Jaal saw Scott’s face flush just like Sara’s did. “He--” Scott tried to clear his throat, and Lexi produced a small cup of ice chips from nowhere. He took one before speaking again. “He’s been here?”

 

“Not as ceaselessly as Jaal, but yes, he’s visited.”

 

“Oh…” Scott blinked slowly, and then all energy seemed to drain from him. “That’s… Wow.” His eyes closed.

 

Jaal looked sharply at Lexi, who sighed and said, “Again, normal. It’s likely that when they both awaken at first, it won’t be for very long. They’ll probably seem a bit scattered, but each time they wake they should be more alert for longer, and the time sleeping between conscious moments will decrease. I need to tell Harry and see to my other patients. Any other questions?” she asked, clearly ready to leave.

 

Jaal shook his head and she exited the room. He sighed heavily and poked Sara’s shoulder. “You are the eldest, you’ve often told me. Why aren’t _you_ waking up first?”

 

* * *

 

Sara awoke ten hours later, conscious just long enough to establish that Jaal and Scott were ok and that they really had won before falling back to sleep. Jaal’s relief felt exhausting, and he soon joined her in slumber.

 

When he awoke some time later, it was to the delightful sensation of Sara curled up next to him. In his sleep he’d apparently moved from his cot to her side. He kept his eyes closed, enjoying her closeness.

 

“Come on; I’ve barely seen any of this place,” he heard Scott say. “And what I did see seems like a hallucination.”

 

Jaal recognized Pathfinder Avitus’ subvocals hum consideringly before the turian spoke. “Dr. Carlisle was pretty adamant about you taking it easy…”

 

“It’s just a short ways! Seriously, it’s getting crowded in this bed.”

 

“If you’re willing to risk a doctor’s wrath by walking--”

 

“No, see, I have an even better idea!”

 

“Oh?” Avitus’ skepticism was clear to Jaal, even without the visual cue of raised mandibles. “And what’s that?”

 

Jaal opened one eye enough to see the surprise on Avitus’ face when Scott beamed, held out his hands, and declared, “Carry me!”

 

The subharmonic tone underneath Avitus’ chuckle was unfamiliar to Jaal, but the turian--either completely on board with the notion or calling Scott’s bluff--scooped him up with one long arm under his knees and another supporting his torso, ignoring Scott’s poorly-stifled yelp of surprise.

 

Avitus carried his charge to the door, but Jaal eavesdropped until the doors closed behind them.

 

“Bridal style? Really?”

 

“I don’t know what ‘bridal style’ means, but if you want to see Meridian, this is how I’m carrying you.”

 

Smiling, Jaal stretched luxuriously, curling his toes in his undersuit and extending his arms and legs far beyond the reach of the human bed.

 

“Did you know you tingle when you stretch? At full extension?” Sara asked drowsily.

 

She was awake! Jaal leaned up on his elbow to look down at her. “I did not,” he replied. “Do you like it?”

 

She smiled, and he could almost feel her happiness. “Jaal, I like everything about you.”

 

* * *

 

Recovery for both Ryders was rapid (according to Lexi) and interminably slow (according to Sara and Scott). Fortunately, Sara was able to relocate to her quarters on the Tempest, and there was no question about Jaal moving with her.

 

Though Jaal had nothing to which to compare Sara’s recovery, he was satisfied: Sara’s mental faculties were unchanged, and her activity was only limited by the weakness of her body and she had to ‘nap’ frequently. Jaal didn’t see why this was a bad thing; there were so many human idioms including naps that plainly they were a common occurrence among them. And naps could be used to good advantage, as more than once SAM had turned away one of Tann’s messages asking for a meeting with the excuse that the Pathfinder was resting.

 

Not to mention that naps usually included cuddling.

 

Jaal stayed at her side constantly, helping her, steadying her when she needed it, being her hands when they began to shake, holding her while she read reports or visited with their friends.

 

One morning she was gathering her hair to braid and stopped, frowning. She braided it quickly and held it over her shoulder to see. “I’m losing my hair,” she announced.

 

Jaal was prepared for this. He had practiced. “Yes. It's a common reaction to human physical trauma and is temporary,” he recited. He walked to her and extended his reassuring current along with his arm, resting it on her shoulder.

 

“...oh,” Sara said in a small voice, still looking at her hair. “Is that why you’ve been so gentle combing my hair? Not that you’re usually rough,” she reassured him unnecessarily.

 

He turned her to face him and embraced her, leaning his head down to touch their foreheads together. “I have been gentle so as not to encourage more hair loss, and because after all you have been through, you deserve gentleness.”

 

She nodded, and looked unhappy. “I don’t know how much I’ll lose, or when it’ll come back. Or if it will come back the same.”

 

“That does not matter, so long as you are well,” Jaal said.

 

“Well, yeah, but… I mean, my hair was kind of something we share, right? I know it’s normal, and some things will be easier with less hair, or shorter or,” she flinched, “no hair at all, but...um.”

 

Jaal looked at her seriously, wondering where she was going and why she was so uncomfortable.

 

“You’ll, um.” She bit her upper lip. “You’ll still love me if I don’t have any hair for a while, right?” She asked the question with a half-smile, as though she was joking.

 

Jaal knew she wasn’t, and knew from conversations he’d had with his other human friends that he shouldn’t be offended at such an absurd question. He looked at her and thought of all the ways he could answer-- “I’d love you if you had never had hair at all,” or “Your hair has always attracted and fascinated me, but it’s not why I love you,” or “It will grow back, and it’s not why I love you,” or “I’d love you even if you looked like a krogan,” or “We can paint your face and head with patterns, like my sisters and mothers!” or jokingly, “Liam said something about a _‘too-pay’?”,_ responses both silly and serious, with explanations and proofs and reassurances.

 

Instead of saying any of these, instead of complicating something that was really very simple, or saying anything that could admit doubt later, he looked deep into her eyes and said, “Yes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, we're done! 
> 
> Part two to follow, but notime soon (haven't written any of it). If you'd like to be alerted when I start posting, subscribe for notifications! And thank you for coming this far with me.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are nice, but a comment is worth a hundred kudos! Even just a smiley or 'yay!' Also, comments make me fart glitter, which is fun.


End file.
